Of Pretty Things and Wilted Roses
by Dartwind
Summary: Two years after his "successful" surgery, Shuichi starts coughing up flowers again. Hanahaki AU; contains F/M, M/M, and other background pairings.
1. Chapter 1: Cherry Blossom Cyanide

The first time, it is cherry blossoms.

"He has Hanahaki disease, type one. It's fairly typical of boys his age."

The doctor's voice is even - calm. But the implications of her words don't go unnoticed by Shuichi, who looks down at his feet. He realizes that he'd never changed out of his gym sneakers.

"Can you do anything about it? He has a future ahead of him!"

Shuichi winces. His father's voice is tinged with anger, disappointment, and fear. It's all directed at the poor doctor, who can't do much other than shake her head. The emotion that builds in Shuichi's father's eyes make the teen want to hide under the table. It isn't long before his father begins to shout. Shuichi wants to tell him to stop - it's not her fault. But he knows that if he does, he'll only make the situation worse.

It's only a matter of time before his father storms out of the room. The door shuts behind him with a bang, and Shuichi flinches. The doctor, only mildly frazzled, turns to face him. Even though the rest of her face looks tired, her sympathetic smile speaks volumes. Shuichi wishes he could crawl out of the window.

"I'm sorry, it's my fault he's upset. I didn't tell him."

The words come out before Shuichi can stop them from spilling past of his lips. The doctor merely nods and puts her clipboard on the counter. She stares straight into his eyes when she responds.

"Thank you. I know that can be hard for parents to hear for the first time..."

There's a pause, and then comes the question Shuichi had been dreading from the start, "But I'm here for you, Shuichi, not him. How are you holding up?"

Shuichi shrugs. He can smell the sweat on his skin, thick and pungent. The blood stains that decorate his shirt in red have not faded, no matter how much water he had poured on them in the bathroom.

It... could be worse.

"I'm fine."

"Did either of your parents know about this before you came here?"

Shuichi doesn't answer right away, opting to glance at the clock instead. It's 2:02, meaning he's missing his math exam. His shoulders sag - he'll have to make it up tomorrow.

"No."

The doctor's face contorts into a look have between pity and sympathy.

"Why didn't you tell your parents?"

Shuichi would have laughed if his throat didn't burn every time he exhaled. Shuichi unconsciously picks at the dried blood on his hand.

"It's untreatable - why make them worry?"

The doctor purses her lips. A strand of hair falls over her face as she turns to write something down on her clipboard. She leaves, bidding Shuichi a quick goodbye and leaving him alone with his thoughts.

Hanahaki.

He'd expected that diagnosis ever since he was ten and he woke up with petals clogging the back of his throat. He remembers the confusion that jarred him from his half-asleep daze, and then the desperate, frenzied choking that left him shivering.

It was only recently that his coughing started to bring up blood, and the petals started to inhibit his ability to breathe. Before, they were small, pretty little things that were only mildly uncomfortable. Now, the petals are fully formed flowers, blooming and beautiful. But as lovely as they are, they make Shuichi feel like there's a mass in his throat, and sometimes, they don't come out until he vomits.

His mother thought he should've have transferred last year. Maybe he could have put off the surgery longer, or maybe it would have gone away on its own.

But she was foolish to think that, and Shuichi knows that now. No matter what Shuichi does, the hanahaki never gets better. He trembles when he feels a petal flutter in his throat, and he swallows it down. It's unpleasant, but he needs to suppress the urge to cough - he doesn't want to pass out again.

His mother comes in only moments later, and her face is impassive.

"You're getting surgery in two months."

* * *

He never forgets the day before it begins.

Kaede sits next to him in the couch, her arm over his shoulder. It's comfortable - safe. He leans into her side, and she giggles.

"Shuichi, did you see that?"

She points to the screen, and he nods. She smiles.

He smiles back, and a split second later, he's choking. Kaede's eyes crease in concern when he doubles over and coughs so hard he nearly gags.

"Are you okay?" She asks, all wide-eyed and innocent.

Shuichi answers her in a raspy whisper, "Water, I… I need water."

His heart is racing, and by some miracle he's able to push himself to his feet. He walks to the sink in a strange, hazy fog. He thinks he knows why he feels like this, why he's coughing, and why his chest hurts. But he doesn't dare admit it to himself. No, that would make it real - too real. There's no reason to just to conclusions, anyways, since he doesn't even know for sure yet why he's coughing. Anyways, even if he's right, it might go away. He'll be free, live to laugh about it later on in life, and tell stories about his brush with -

"Shuichi?"

He nearly drops his cup at the sound of his name. Kaede stands beside him, holding the remote in her hands. She looks worried, " I paused the movie, we can - "

"I think I'm getting a cold. You should go home, Kaede."

Her face falls, "Oh Shuichi, I'm sorry. But, I - "

"I don't want to get you sick." Shuichi presses, interrupting her.

She can't stay here, not when he's like this. His mother comes down the stairs and enters the kitchen, "What's going on? You have to go home, Kaede?"

"I'm getting a cold and I don't want Kaede to get sick." Shuichi blurts out before Kaede can even open her mouth.

His mother stares at him. He tries not to shrink under her gaze, her pale grey eyes piercing through him. Eventually, she breaks the stare and sighs, " I'll take you home in a few minutes, Kaede. Get your things together and get in the car."

Kaede nods slowly, passing by Shuichi. He hates the look she gives him as she walks out of the room. Even so, Shuichi watches he go, his mother's eyes hovering over him the entire time.

His mother makes no move to comfort him, "Say goodbye to her before she leaves, Shuichi, then go straight to bed."

He nods and waits for Kaede to return. She comes back with her things, and Shuichi escorts her to the garage door. Shuichi faces her, "I'm sorry Kaede, I-"

He trails off as Kaede's arms wrap around him, and his throat goes dry. She hugs him for a moment before she pulls back and smiles softly, "It's okay Shuichi! I want you to get better, alright? Call me tomorrow and tell me how you're feeling."

Her voice is upbeat and light, but the smile she gives him is forced. He bobs his head weakly, and she walks outside before he can come up with something to say. His mother starts up the car, and the garage door opens with a loud, prolonged squeak. The car rumbles as it backs out.

Even after Kaede is gone, Shuichi's throat still burns, hot and unpleasant. Shuichi heeds his mother's order and goes to bed, but it's hours before he falls asleep.

When he wakes up, there are petals fluttering in his throat.

* * *

He is first diagnosed with asthma, then acid reflux, then finally hanahaki.

He doesn't need an inhaler, but the antacids soothe him sometimes. It makes it easier to fake it, too. His parents buy it, and they don't ask him about it as long as he shows no signs of illness or dropping grades. Shuichi tries to keep it a secret from Kaede to, because somewhere deep down, he knows he can't tell her. She'd ask more and more questions, and Shuichi wouldn't be able to lie at that point.

But as much as he wants to keep his ailment a secret, Shuichi can't avoid her. They're swinging on the swingset on one of the last days of fifth grade when his throat fills with petals and his stomach lurches. He jumps off his swing, runs to woods, and vomits whole flowers into the river.

Kaede doesn't see it, and he assures her it's just a stomach bug.

When Shuichi looks at cherry blossoms, he feels resentment.

He used to hate getting sick. But the fear dulled over time as his sickness slowly became part of his daily routine. He gets used to his throat always burning and his stomach always gurgling. The fluttering in his lungs too, serves as a casual reminder of the plants that have taken root in his lungs.

He's surprised no one suspects it earlier. Yet then again, he's always been sickly, introverted and plagued by allergies in his younger years. The years he suffers alone through the panic attacks and the cold, unfiltered dread that grips him when he feels the petals crawling up his throat are years he wishes he could forget. The only comfort he has is books that tell him stories of places far, far away from the petals he vomits into the toilet in the morning. No matter how bad it gets, he doesn't tell Kaede or his parents.

They can't know.

His parents would make him get surgery, and even if it was successful, he could lose the ability to feel emotion, which scared him more than hanahaki itself. On the other hand, if Kaede knew, she'd blame herself, he's sure of it. She's too kind, too generous - knowing that she was the cause of his illness would destroy her. She sees him as a brother, as a friend, and nothing more. The flowers remind him of that every time he breathes, fluttering in his chest and crawling up his throat

Yet...

Shuichi can see why people consider the blossoms beautiful, even if he doesn't. They're pretty things, pale pink with a darker centers and fat, rounded leaves. They don't last long in nature, blooming for only a few weeks. Maybe that's why they're so common in first-time Hanahaki sufferers, and why, out of all the flowers, they're the ones that clear up the fastest.

Shuichi's however, never clears.

* * *

They sit in the grass under an old tree with gnarled bark and boughs of wide, pointed leaves that spread out high above them. The smell of spring air and freshly-cut lawns drift through the wind and towards Shuichi. He reads the equation on his homework over again in his head, his eyes narrowed. His pencil taps on his paper listlessly as his mind works. Kaede sits beside him, reading a book they have to read for their literature class. He's glad she's here - they hadn't spent much time together recently.

Shuichi's phone buzzes, breaking the relative silence of the afternoon calm. He sighs and taps the screen. It's four o'clock; they've been out of school for nearly an hour and a half. The source of the buzz turns out to be a text from Shuichi's mother. The message is simple, short and to the point, like always. She'll pick him up in fifteen minutes at the front of the school.

He doesn't want to leave Kaede. His sudden stiffness must be apparent, because suddenly Kaede is leaning over, her breath ghosting over the side of his throat, "Your mom?"

Her hair cascades over his skin, sending a shiver up his arm. She smells familiar, like a home away from home.

"Yeah, she'll be here in fifteen minutes."

Petals rise in his throat, and he rubs his chest automatically. He replies to his mother with three words - _Okay, be there_. She'll know what he means. Across the field, a girl with dark brown hair in long pigtails is walking with a boy dressed in a purple coat. Kaede stares at them as they walk, unblinking.

Shuichi is settling back into his algebra homework when he hears Kaede cough. At first, he writes it down as nothing. But when her soft coughs become loud, hacking noises, and her inhalations sound like frenzied gasps for air, he looks over.

Kaede's face is pale, and in her hand is covered in blood. Shuichi's body goes cold.

"Shuichi, I…"

Her hand shakes as she uncurls her fingers, revealing a lone red poppy sitting in her palm.

"I think I have hanahaki."

* * *

When Shuichi is sixteen, he stops breathing.

He's at home when it happens, bent over a trash can, blood and flowers flowing out of his mouth. It's his worst attack yet, brought on by Kaede's presence only minutes ago. He's fortunate that she had to leave when she did. He doesn't know how he could have explained his sickness to her if she had stayed.

One flower catches in his windpipe, and Shuichi chokes. He frantically sticks his hand in the back of his throat and tries to grab the flower. Try as he might, he can't just can't reach it. He gags and vomits again, but the flower stays lodged in the back of his throat. A wave of heat followed by a wave of cold rips through his body.

Shuichi hears the sounds of footsteps and his uncle's voice before his vision goes dark.

* * *

He meets her when he is five.

The classroom is awash with stale, artificial light, each and every wall painted with a disgustingly cheery shade of yellow. Shuichi sits alone at a table in the back of the ugly room, his hand tightly clenched around a black crayon. It has bite marks on its end, and the paper around it is peeling away. A teacher crouches near him, trying to coax him out of his seat.

He doesn't move.

The teacher sighs and stands, advancing towards him. His heart races as she gets closer, and he panics. Abandoning the crayon, he ducks under the table and out of the teacher's grasp. No matter how hard the teacher tries, she cannot reach him there. Even the classroom aide cannot grab him, both of the adults being too slow and too big to fit underneath the table. They continue their attempts to entice him out while he huddles pathetically near the wall. Yet despite their efforts, none of their bribes work - Shuichi is too wary of them to be persuaded by things such as candy and toys.

A touch on his shoulder makes him flinch.

A girl crawls up besides him, her blonde hair short and unkempt. She has a wild look in her eyes, and Shuichi is immediately on guard. She speaks before he's able to process what's happening, "Hi! My name is Kaede, what's yours?"

He stares at her, unmoving. He's decided that she's the lesser of the two evils, but still isn't ready to trust her quite yet.

"I'm… umm, Shuichi."

She smiles, and he notices she's missing one of her front teeth.

"Hi Umm Shuichi! Isn't it so cool under here? I love hiding under the tables!"

She leans in closer, and Shuichi leans back, frowning, "It's just Shuichi, not umm Shuichi…"

Moving backwards only entices Kaede to move closer, as Shuichi finds out the hard way.

The girl's face brightens, "I found a skittle at my last school under a table once - it was red, my favorite!"

Shuichi cringes, screwing up his face. He can't imagine why anyone would eat candy that they found on the floor. Kaede just grins wider in response, reaching out for his hand.

"Awesome, right? But I couldn't find any under here…" She trails off, her expression somber.

Shuichi's look of disgust deepens, and Kaede's smile returns, now even wider than before, "Do you like instruments? 'Cuz I like the piano! Come on, come on, I'll show you!"

With that, Shuichi finds his hand in hers. She all but drags him past the teachers and towards the opposite corner of the room. Once they are there, Kaede sits down on the seat of the toy piano. She pats the empty space next to her, "Sit down! Let's play together!"

He sits next to her, and she begins to play, her shoulder brushing up against his when she moves. Despite the ugly walls and the scary teachers, Shuichi is strangely content to sit next to Kaede and listen to her play.

* * *

They're walking home when she tells him the name.

The pavement radiates heat, and Shuichi feels sweat dribble down his back. Soon, school will be over, and Shuichi will have a summer to relax. A gust of wind gently ruffles his hair as they turn a corner, providing momentary relief from the sun's warmth. For the most part, they walk in silence.

"It's Maki Harukawa."

Shuichi does not startle at Kaede's sudden confession. Kaede and her had been friends for years, ever since she and Kaede beat up bullies together in grade school.

"Is she…?"

Kaede looks down. Her steps falter, and Shuichi can practically see her heart split in half.

"No."

The sun burns on the back of his neck. He clears his throat and squints at the air rippling over the grey-black road ahead. Despite the heat, Shuichi feels cold.

"I'm sorry."

* * *

Kaede and Shuichi sit together on Kaede's bed. Kaede's house is big, expensive, and new. Her parents aren't home, as usual. She tells him that they are off on a big photo shoot in the city, but she doesn't know which one. Her grandmother is downstairs watching TV, accompanied by Kaede's dog, Mio. Kaede's knee touches Shuichi's thigh, and his heart flutters.

"Shuichi?"

He looks up at Kaede, who is putting dividers into her binder.

"Yeah?"

"Are you nervous?"

Shuichi takes a moment to mull the question over in his head, thumbing the edges of his notebook. Tomorrow will be their first day of high school, and they're spending the afternoon preparing.

He shrugs, "I guess so. It hasn't sunk in completely yet."

Kaede groans, flopping onto her back, "Me too. But I'm scared that I'll forget my classes or get lost…"

Shuichi tries his best to quell her worries, "Don't be, I'm sure there are going to be people to help us. We're new."

Kaede doesn't look entirely convinced, so Shuichi gives her a reassuring smile, "You can call me if you get lost."

It's ironic - usually, it's Kaede assuring Shuichi that things are going to be okay. Kaede sits back up and sighs, "If you say so, Shuichi. I'm glad we have at least some classes together."

Shuichi dips his head in agreement, "Yeah, me too."

"Hey, Shuichi?"

Kaede places her hand on his shoulder.

"Thanks."

Shuichi raises an eyebrow at her, "For what?"

"For everything. Just… thank you."

Flowers threaten to fill his throat and choke him, but his smile never leaves his face.

"You're welcome, Kaede."

* * *

When he wakes, the room is bright.

Too bright.

Shuichi tries to push himself up, but his arms don't cooperate. Everything feels wrong, and he's disorientated. His chest burns, and his throat feels raw. A deep ache radiates down his chest.

Shuichi's eyes water in a mixture of pain and fear. His vision is muddled, vague shapes filtering in and out of sight. Someone is speaking to him, but he can't discern what they're saying.

"Shuichi!"

One voice cuts through the jumble. Shuichi squeezes his eyes shut, giving them time to clear, and then opens them. The light that had previously been above him is now blocked out by a dark mass. Shuichi feels wetness on his cheeks, and then mass is hugging him gently. Their embrace feels oddly familiar. Shuichi's brows furrow, and he tries to speak.

"What… where am I? What's happening?"

The words come out jumbled and strange, but the mass pulls away from him. A girl looks down at him, her violet eyes brimming with tears.

 _Kaede._

His memories come back in a rush. Kaede is saying something, but Shuichi doesn't here it.

 _The blood, the screams, the feeling of choking._

No.

 _His uncle, the paramedics, the mask._

No, no, no, no.

 _The fear._

He chokes back a sob, and is rewarded by a sharp sting of pain. His eyes leak tears that mingle with the wetness from before, rolling down his cheeks in solitary streams. Shuichi hates the way Kaede looks at him, with soft eyes and a concerned frown.

"Shuichi, are you okay?"

 _No._

"Kaede… what's…"

"You're in the hospital, Shuichi. You had pneumonia. It was really bad, so they… they had to operate."

He's about to correct her when he remembers - she can't know.

His energy leaves him. Relief floods through his veins. He expects to feel something when her faces comes into focus and she squeezes his hand, but…

There's nothing.

His heart jumps in fear, and he looks around, panicked. He feels sick.

 _Wrong, wrong, wrong._

Kaede rubs the back of his hand with her thumb, her skin warm and soft against his.

"Shuichi? You're fine, remember? You're at the hospital. Do you want your parents? They're going to want to know you're awake Or-"

He can't think, and without warning, he feels like he's being choked again, petals filling up his throat, his lungs, his stomach, his veins, his…

"Doctor, where's the doctor?" Shuichi croaks, every syllable he utters burning like liquid fire in his throat.

Kaede sits up straight, releasing Shuichi's hand. Her face looks increasingly worried, "Oh! The doctor, of course. I'll find one for you, okay Shuichi?"

He nods, and Kaede darts away.

A thousand thoughts ricochet around in his head, but he can decipher none of them. He forces himself to breathe, attempting to fight through the panic.

 _It isn't real, it isn't real._

But no matter how many times he reassures himself, he can't convince himself the flowers in the back of his throat are imaginary.

* * *

Shuichi knows Kaede will never like him back.

He knows it the day he sees her on the playground standing next over the body of a boy nearly twice her size, a girl standing protectively beside her. As he gets closer, he realizes she's yelling something at the boy who's on the ground, all her teeth bared in a vicious snarl.

Shuichi has never seen her so angry before.

She takes one step forward, and the boy's eyes widen. He picks himself up, snot and blood dripping out of his nose, and runs away crying. Two other boys run with him, yelling for a teacher. Kaede merely turns to the girl. She has her brown hair tied up in matching pigtails, and one side of her face has a big, ugly bruise on it. Shuichi has seen her before - they were in class together, once. Upon looking at the girl, Kaede's anger seems to wilt, but Shuichi isn't blind. He can see it brimming just below her skin, hot and volatile.

Kaede approaches the girl and hugs her. The girl looks surprised for a moment, but then she leans forward, whispering something into Kaede's ear. Immediately, Kaede's face grows red, and she's only capable of stuttering back an incoherent, muffled reply. The pair walk away together, Kaede grasping the girl's hand in hers.

Shuichi's stomach drops.


	2. Chapter 2: College Woes

Shuichi predicts there will be a lot of socializing in college. He knows there will be frat parties, clubs, students getting drunk on the weekends, and football games. However, he does not plan on participating or attending any of them.

So, when he finds himself leaning against a wall in the most remote corner of the frat house, completely alone and desperately trying to avoid his shoes sticking to the floor, he is, needless to say, not exactly sure what to do.

The music is obnoxiously loud. The beat reverberates in his sternum and batters his eardrums. He tries to drown out the sounds of the party by turning his attention the only non-alcoholic drink he could find: Pepsi. The can sits in his hand, opened, but otherwise untouched.

Shuichi takes a sip.

The liquid is lukewarm, and it fizzles on his tongue. It tastes artificial, and is not satisfying in the least. He drinks it anyways, not even bothering to clean up the drops that dribble down the side of the can.

The party goes on, and the music only seems to get louder. Shuichi's headache eventually prompts him to peel himself away from the slimy wall and seek out an exit. He weaves through the house, dodging the party-goers that are so drunk that they've forgotten how to walk. Shuichi is lucky that he doesn't trip over any bodies by the time he gets to the door.

The air is cooler on the front porch. A pair of lonely, long-finished beer bottles lie in front of the door, and Shuichi nearly smashes them with his feet when he attempts to step outside. He grumbles in irritation, picking them up and putting them to the side.

When Shuichi looks at his phone, he realizes that it is nearly one in the morning.

The thought of lying down on a hard, lumpy dorm bed has never felt so alluring. Despite the fatigue in his limbs, Shuichi is beckoned forward by the sweet temptation of sleep. His feet hit the ground in slow, measured intervals, and his eyelids droop.

In the distance, the party roars on.

Class is boring.

It isn't that the teachers are bad, or the material is hard. It has much more to do with the fact that Shuichi has no one to talk to.

It isn't that he's accustomed to being alone, either. He likes time to himself, and having a space for him to just relax in, far away from anyone else. But he doesn't realize how much he had come to depend on his daily interactions with Kaede until he's sitting in the corner of his second class, dead asleep.

"Shuichi?"

Someone calls his name. Shuichi's head jerks up, and he tries to right himself in his chair, nearly toppling over in the process. Once he's righted himself, his eyes scan the lecture hall. With a jolt, he realizes that he's the only student still here.

His professor stand beside him, her lips pursed. There's a hint of amusement in her gaze.

"There's another class coming in ten minutes. Hurry and get packed up."

Shuichi nods, mumbling an apology and hastily shoving his books into his backpack. He makes a beeline towards the door, speed-walking as fast as humanly possible.

The door opens, and Shuichi jerks back, nearly slamming into a student entering the room.

"Sorry!"

The words tumble out of Shuichi's mouth before he can stop them. The student nods curtly, no emotion save for mild confusion present on his face. Shuichi steps back and lets the student pass, a wave of blue-black hair cascading behind him as he moves.

Shuichi walks out of the door, clutching his math textbook in his arms. Mentally, he reminds himself to go to sleep earlier tonight.

At lunch, Shuichi picks dejectedly at his fries and pizza. An hour from now, he's scheduled to go take an exam, but he doesn't feel at all prepared.

He forces down a few fries and a meager couple of bites of pizza before he can stomach no more. He stands and dumps the desecrated remains of his lunch into the trash.

Shuichi returns to his seat and sits down, pouring over his notes. It's pathetic, really. The exam is only on one tiny little section of the textbook - it shouldn't be this difficult for him. Nevertheless, Shuichi finds his eyes rapidly flickering over the page, barely understanding what's in front of him. _I must be missing something if I don't get it by now..._ He thinks, his brows furrowed.

"Hello!"

Shuichi's head snaps up, and he's immediately face to face with a white-haired girl. She possesses dark skin and blue-green eyes that seem to bore into his soul. She's smiling at him with an impossibly wide grin.

"Hi…?"

He response sounds more unsure than he intends it to. She doesn't seem to be deterred, however. The girl sits down on the chair opposite of him, her smile unwavering.

"My name is Angie Yonaga! I'm running for student council. What is your name?"

Angie's voice, loud and obnoxious, is too much for Shuichi. He winces, hoping she'll get the message and leave him alone.

"I'm… Shuichi, Shuichi Saihara."

She offers a hand to him, and it becomes quite apparent that she does not, and will not, get the message.

"Nyhaha, nice to meet you, Shuichi! I hope we become great friends."

Shuichi takes her hand. The girl shakes it with a force that nearly dislocates his arm. Shuichi smiles weakly.

"That uh, sounds fun..."

Unfortunately, Angie does not forget him.

He finds himself sandwiched between two blue-eyed girls. On his right is Tsumugi, both of her long, spindly hands wrapped around his. She squeezes his fingers until they burn.

Angie sits cross legged on his left, her knee barely brushing against his thigh. Her eyes are glued to the screen, gleaming with glee.

A movie plays in the background. Screams erupt from the speakers and Tsumugi squeezes Shuichi's hand harder, nearly breaking the skin.

Shuichi winces, and Tsumugi looks down at his hand. Her eyes widen.

"Sorry!" she whispers, releasing his hand from her death grip.

She grips onto their shared blanket instead, and Shuichi breathes a sigh of relief. His fingers feel numb, but after a few seconds, pins and needles shoot down his appendages.

A boy catapults over the back of the couch, landing in the unoccupied space next to Angie. Tsumugi screeches and all but launches herself off the couch, taking the blanket and the remote with her.

Shuichi flinches and then shivers, the chill of the room magnified without the warmth of the blanket. The boy next to Angie chuckles awkwardly.

"Sorry Tsumugi, I didn't mean to scare you like that."

Shuichi glances at him. His pale green hair matches his equally pale green eyes. _Rantaro_ , Shuichi thinks, recalling their meeting a few days ago. Rantaro holds out a bowl of popcorn to the group that, miraculously, hadn't spilled.

"I made some popcorn - want any?"

As Rantaro speaks, Tsumugi sneaks back onto the couch. Shuichi notices that her face is pale, but says nothing.

When offered the popcorn bowl, Angie gathers up the biggest handful she can before voraciously inhaling all of it at once. Shuichi takes it from her and deposits a reasonable amount of popcorn into his long-empty drink cup. He then hands the bowl to Tsumugi and she shakes, almost too frazzled to hold it steady.

The blanket is returned to their laps. After some deliberation on account of Shuichi's hand and Tsumugi's sanity, they all agree to change to a lighter-hearted movie.

Shuichi doesn't remember what they chose, because when he wakes, he lays alone on the couch, his head resting on a pillow and his body covered in blankets.

Four months into his college year, Shuichi breaks. He'd been laying in his tiny dorm bed for a good half-hour, frowning at his computer screen. Nothing he does seems to take away his intermittent homesickness, and he's at war with his mind on how to deal with it. On one hand, if he calls his old friends, then it may retreat for a while, but come back later. But on the other hand, if he doesn't call, he'll be forced to wallow in his own misery until the feeling resides.

It takes him another fifteen minutes before he finally presses the call button on his phone. It rings just about three times before Kaito picks up.

"Shuichi! How are you? Is college going alright?"

The familiar voice eases the clenching in Shuichi's chest, and his reservations about talking to his old friends fade. Shuichi chuckles, "Hi Kaito. I'm doing okay - college is fine… but it's a lot of work. How are you?"

"I'm great! And Maki's doing good too. Hold on, I'll put you on speaker."

There's a beep, and then Shuichi hears her voice through the phone..

"Hello Shuichi."

Shuichi smiles, "Hello Maki. How's it going?"

"It's going well - I've been busy keeping Kaito in line."

Shuichi hears Kaito splutter out an indignant reply, and then the two start to bicker. It's a familiar sound, one that brings forth a sad ache of nostalgia. Their absence digs into him like a thorn, sharp and painfull. He doesn't say a word as they argue, and it's then that a realization washes over him. He doesn't miss a place, not really. What he really misses are his friends.

The arguing eventually ceases, and the three talk to each other well into the night. Shuichi does his best to keep up a happy front, but even through the phone, it's hard. He can tell Maki knows by her veiled questions and her subtle, worried tone. Kaito, meanwhile, is clueless, raving about a new astronaut program being implemented at his college. A few short minutes after they say their goodbyes and the phone call ends, Shuichi receives a text from Maki.

 _I'm here if you ever want to talk._

He tells her thank you, and then shuts off his phone. His throat starts to burn, and he coughs. Thinking that his esophagus is merely dry from talking, Shuichi grabs his water and sips it. When he swallows, however, he feels something in the back of his mouth. A frigid spike of fear tears through his body, and Shuichi's heart begins to race. Anxiety takes over, and suddenly he's on the ground, coughing so hard that he's gagging.

Two objects dislodge from his throat and flutter to the floor.

One, a poppy, and the other, a lilac.

Shuichi barely sleeps that night.

His anxiety grips him tight and doesn't let go. It's painfully cold and horribly uncomfortable, leaving him tossing and turning fretfully for the entirety of the night.

When morning comes, he drags himself from bed and walks down the dorm hallway to the coffee machine. He sets a cup below the machine and waits for it to brew. Around him, other students mope about. Some look awake, bouncing around and chattering as they prepare for classes. Others look like they have, literally, been dragged out of bed and then run over by a bus.

His coffee finishes brewing, and he grabs his cup. The liquid inside it warms his hands as he takes a sip. Upon tasting the coffee, Shuichi's face puckers and he sets the cup down. _Too bitter,_ he thinks, walking over to the condiment area. There, he searches for sugar and creamer he likes. As he digs through the disorganized bins, his mind drifts to the two half-flowers in his desk drawer.

It doesn't feel real to him.

Shuichi pinches his arm, and immediately, he feels pain radiating from the area. _I guess this isn't a dream._ He sighs as he dumps a few packets of sugar into his coffee to make it more palatable. He doesn't know what to do about his sudden resurgence of hanahaki. All the memories that surge back into his mind make it difficult to think of anything clearly, so Shuichi banishes the thought from his consciousness as he stirs his coffee with a straw.

His anxiety, however, stays.

On Shuichi's second taste test of the coffee, he finds it isn't bad, even though he couldn't get his hand on any cream. He doesn't bother getting any - this area is out, and he'd have to go to the cafeteria to get more. Instead, he crawls back upstairs, finishes his coffee while browsing on his computer, and then slowly, gets dressed.

The rest of the day drags on, even though Shuichi has only two classes. The lessons are not entertaining, and he finds himself nodding off on more than one occasion. Thoughts of hanahaki make concentrating hard, too. By one in the afternoon, a pounding headache has gathered at his temple, and it refuses to let up for the rest of the day.

In the gaps between classes, Shuichi scours the internet for answers about his condition. He hasn't coughed up flowers since last night's phone call, but his worry hasn't faded. Getting hanahaki twice is possible, he finds out. But getting it again after surgery _and_ having it for multiple people, much less people he's never considered himself attracted to...?

Shuichi shakes his head and continues his research. He finds some recurrences that occurred after botched or incomplete surgeries, yet none of them match his case. Interestingly, he finds out that moderate cases of hanahaki can be a result of strong platonic feelings, and not romantic ones. He feels himself relax - now that he knows that he doesn't need to have a romantic attraction to his friends to have hanahaki caused by them, he feels less guilty. Yet still, Shuichi can find little more about the platonic variant than that it is rarer, and generally not chronic.

He makes his search more specific, and somehow manages to stumble across a scholarly article that talks about chronic hanahaki. It's exceedingly rare, much more so than the platonic variant, but is defined as having multiple hanahaki plant systems growing in one's chest. While some plant systems die over time, there's not enough information in the article for Shuichi to determine whether or not it can be removed through surgery. The only other facts he finds on his variation is in an old book that's supposedly more folklore than actual medical knowledge. He bookmarks the page about it anyways - perhaps there's something in the book that could help him.

The rest of his online search proves fruitless - only two poorly written "accounts" of recurring hanahaki and uncomfortably lewd fanfictions mention it.

Shuichi walks into the seventh examination room he's been in this month.

The walls are painted an ugly shade of green, and the tiny room is cramped, cluttered with desks, books, and rickety chairs. Shuichi resigns himself to sit and wait on the examination table for the doctor. The clock on the wall ticks in time with Shuichi's legs swinging back and forth. He tries not to think about why he's here as he waits.

The door opens and Shuichi looks up. The doctor walks in before Shuichi gets a chance to settle himself, nodding to him curtly as he immediately goes to work rummaging around in a deep drawer. He resurfaces with a notepad and a pen in his hands. The doctor is an older man, with white, wispy hair curling around his sad, drooping face. He looks as if he'd rather be anywhere else other than here.

He holds out his hand to Shuichi, speaking is a low, lumbering voice," Hello, Shuichi. My name is Dr. Nishida - what brings you in today?"

Shuichi shakes his hand. The man's skin is tough and leathery, covered in spots from sun damage. Shuichi withdraws from the handshake and exhales slowly, "I'm uh, looking for hanahaki treatment…?" He says, pausing to gather his thoughts,"I had surgery about two years ago, for a different hanahaki infection. I haven't had any lingering issues until recently, when I spoke to some old friends of mine. I coughed up a half of a poppy and a half of a lilac. I… don't know why that would have triggered it - they were never people I had any interest in romantically."

As Shuichi talks, the doctor appears to become more and more puzzled. After he finishes his story, Dr. Nishida sighs. He takes off his glasses and rubs his temple, "Well, that certainly sounds like something I've heard of before, though it's rare… you are positive the flowers were different from those present during your first illness?"

Shuichi nods, "The first were different, I'm sure of it."

A phone rings, and Dr. Nishida excuses himself to go check it. From the crack in the door, Shuichi sees him looking at a medical book while talking on the phone, but can't tell what the doctor is saying. Shuichi shifts, and the paper on the examination table crinkles underneath him. While Dr. Nishida is gone, Shuichi occupies himself by counting the books in the room.

He counts to eighty-seven before the doctor returns. The doctor is quiet, and his face is dark. Shuichi's stomach drops - this can't be good.

Dr. Nishida shakes his head as he speaks,"The only other possible explanation I can give you is that it's a chronic hanahaki disease. It's rare, and unfortunately, it does not have a cure - it runs too deep to be removed. However, I can prescribe you medications to deal with the pain, and refer you to a surgeon for a reduction should the mass get too large. I'm sorry, Shuichi."

Shuichi doesn't listen as the doctor drabble on about treatment options and managing his ailment. All Shuichi hears is that he can't escape this disease. Shuichi robotically thanks the doctor before he leaves, the door closing with a click behind him. In his mind, he barely registers the trip home or curling up on his bed. The world eventually fades into blackness, and he dreams of things he cannot remember when he wakes.

Shuichi enters the library around midday.

Some students mull around, but most are out eating lunch. Shuichi takes a quick scans of the room for the folklore section of the library. It's a large building, the library much bigger than any that he'd seen before. The shelves are tall, reaching up high above his head and filled to the brim with books of all shapes and sizes. It takes nearly five minutes for Shuichi to even find the folklore section, much less where his book would be. It's placed next to religious books, sandwiched in between the fiction and non-fiction sections of the library.

He squints at the spines of the books on the shelves as he passes. He checks the entire section twice, yet…

Nothing. They book he'd seen online isn't there.

He's puzzled. The website had not indicated that the book was currently being borrowed by anyone, yet it is nowhere to be found. He looks around for help, but sees no one who looks like a library staff member. Shuichi walks forward listlessly, his feet moving on their own accord.

He turns a corner and sees a large, round, wooden table. At it, sits a student with dark, waist-length hair and yellow eyes. They are thoroughly engaged in the book they are reading, barely blinking and scarcely moving even an inch. Shuichi get closer, fully intending to just pass by the student. But his eye catches the name of the book and he stops abruptly. It's exactly the book he's looking for, held in someone else's hands. The student looks up when Shuichi steps up to the table.

"Yes?" The student asks through the mask covering his mouth.

Shuichi suddenly recognizes him. He's the student Shuichi ran into a month or so ago when he fell asleep during class. His hair is what Shuichi remembers first. It reaches well past his waist, straight and immaculate. The rest of his body is long and thing, but he's not overly lanky. His eyes are yellow, taking on a fiery orange tinge in the low light. Shuichi motions awardly to the book with a half-formed, jerky motion,"Hi, could I uh, borrow that when you're done?"

Shuichi wrings his hands together and watches for the student's reaction. Upon seeing none, Shuichi hastily continues,"I'm studying hanahaki for a… project. The um, the history of it."

The student tilts his head, "Interesting. However, I happen to need this book for a class, so I cannot give it away. My apologies."

Shuichi's heart sinks, and he's about to turn away when the boy speaks, "But sit, and we can discuss it if you'd wish. My name is Korekiyo Shinguji, and I am majoring in anthropology."

Shuichi sits.

He fiddles with his thumbs, looking everywhere but the other boy's face. He hadn't meant to come off as pushy in asking for the book. So he tries again, "I don't need it today or anything. Sorry for being rude, you probably need the book more than I do."

Korekiyo peers at him over the edges of the worn pages, a neutral expression on his face, "What information do you seek to find with this book?"

Shuichi looks at the front of the book. It's old and tattered, the words upon it too faded for him to decipher. He swallows,"I… general information on the variations of the disease. Yeah."

Korekiyo nods, "Chapter 3. Here, you may photograph the pages."

He holds the book out to Shuichi, who takes it from him gingerly. The book is heavier than he had expected, and he nearly drops it. He dips his head, "Thank you, Korekiyo."

Shuichi takes pictures of the pages that look interesting before he hands the book back to the anthropologist. As Shuichi gives it back to Korekiyo, he swears he detects the beginnings of a smile forming behind the anthropologist's mask.

"Of course."

The sound of banging jolts Shuichi awake.

He doesn't respond at first, only moving when the knocking increases both in volume and in frequency. With a yawn, Shuichi gets out of bed. One of his roommates is already gone, the top bunk on the opposite bed vacant. Ryoma, on the other hand, is just emerging from the clutches of slumber. The red-haired boy sits up, rubbing his eyes,"What's going on?"

His voice is low and gravely with fatigue. Shuichi shrugs, glancing over his shoulder at Ryoma,"I don't know. I didn't invite anyone over…"

Shuichi plods over to the door and looks out the peephole. One green-blue eye stares back at him,"Yoo-hoo! Shuichi, are you awake?"

Shuichi rolls his eyes, grumbling under his breath. He hears Ryoma fall back onto his bed as he unlocks the door. Angie stands on the other side, fully dressed and bursting with energy. Her smile triples in size upon seeing Shuichi, "Shuichi! Get dressed and lets gooooo!"

Shuichi stares, his expression blank. Angie's smile droops, and she clutches her hands to her chest, pouting, "Oh no, you didn't forget, did you? You need to go shopping!"

 _Forget? Forget what?_ Shuichi almost says, before the conversation he had with Angie and her group of friends floods back into his consciousness.

He had agreed to go to a party.

 _Again._

Music plays over the speakers, the sound of classical piano blanketing the ballroom with a soft, relaxing ambience. An air of class and poise hangs over the room, and the sound of bubbly laughter floats over the soft chatter of the party-goers.

This party is different than the other that Shuichi had attended. Unlike the frat parties, the volume of the room is not overwhelming, and any drinking is controlled. Shuichi nearly feels calm amongst all the good-natured banter.

The event is hosted by an older student with black curls and cold, red eyes. Shuichi only knows her from a picture he had seen of her in the past. But when he looks upwards, he sees the host gliding down one of the two winding stairs on the edges of the room, her dress billowing out around her. When she reaches the floor, party goers move to the side to let her through, as if she were some sort of holy figure. As she comes closer to Shuichi, he finds that she reeks of money and fine wine.

Her eyes ghost over Shuichi's form as she passes. Shuichi doesn't know if he's imagining it or not when she nods to him. All he knows is that suddenly Rantaro has his arm and is pulling him towards the smaller ballroom, Tsumugi on his other side. The house is enormous, with wide rooms and vaulted ceilings. Ornate carvings decorate the posts that hold up the roof, and Shuichi notices that the stairwells that flank the room are made entirely out of marble.

Rantaro releases Shuichi's arm, and he is brought back into reality. Shuichi soon finds that Rantaro and Tsumugi have left him in favor of dancing. It's not like Shuichi minds - he's not big on dancing, anyways. He leaves the floor, making a beeline towards the refreshment table. There's only few people milling around the table, many of them talking and sipping alcohol from crystal wine glasses.

Shuichi declines one guest's offer of alcohol. He grabs a water bottle instead, screwing open the lid and drinking it slowly. He's the designated driver for the night, responsible for getting his friends home safely.

Shuichi's not lost on the fact that his friends really only asked him to come because they needed a driver, and they knew he didn't drink. He didn't mind - from what they'd told him, he would like it, and so far, he has.

Shuichi loses sight of his friends after a few minutes when crowd on the dance floor swallows them up into its mass. Shuichi doesn't bother going after them. He simply caps his water bottle and leans against the wall, relaxing. He does little more than observe as the party continues on without him.

Shuichi sees a dark form coming towards him out of the corners of his eyes. He turns, and is met with the grin of the party's host.

She places her hand on his, "Hello, Shuichi, I'm glad to make your acquaintance."

Shuichi resists the urge to pull his hand away, "Oh… hi… how do you know my name?"

The woman laughs, and it's a short, calculated noise. Shuichi feels a shiver climb up his spine, as if her cold hands were gliding over his back instead of his knuckles.

Mercifully, she lets his hand go, "It would not be fit for a host to be unaware as to who's attending her party, would it? My name is Celestia Ludenberg, but please, call me Celeste."

Shuichi nods numbly. The woman's mere presence is enough to chill him to the bone.

"Oh… nice to meet you too, Celeste."

The woman nods, her smile never wavering, "The pleasure is all mine, Shuichi. But I notice you are alone… Why is that?"

Shuichi cringes under her gaze, but tries not to let his discomfort show, "I don't like to dance."

"I see, that is understandable." Celeste says before she pauses, clasping her hands together, "But truthfully... I came to see you because one of your friends told me that you may be interested in my library. It's quite vast, and it's currently open for viewing - I can lead you there now, if you'd like. Don't worry, I don't bite."

Despite his wariness of the woman, Shuichi nods, his curiosity far outweighing his fear. He lets Celeste guide him out of the ballroom and into a wide hallway, decorate with large paintings and dark green plants. They make a series of turns into increasingly smaller hallways until they reach an old door that sticks out from all the rest. A gold plaque hangs above it, and Shuichi can just make out the words "Ludenberg Library."

Celeste pushes the door open and beckons for Shuichi to follow her inside. When he enters, his jaw drops. The room feels infinite, every shelf jam-packed with books from the floor to ceiling. Not a single layer of dust can be seen, but the drooping wood of the shelves and the aged, yellow pages of the books reveal the library's lengthy past. Shuichi can scarcely believe his eyes, awestruck by the magnificence of the mountains upon mountains of books.

Celeste smiles slyly, "Impressive, isn't it?"

Shuichi nods. He moves forward as if entranced, his gaze locked on the shelves. The collection is remarkable, housing everything from ancient books to early classics. As Shuichi peruses the library, lost in thought, he hears footsteps. He turns and is met with a familiar face.

"Hello Shuichi."

A boy, tall in stature and dressed in black, looks down at Shuichi. The detective dips his head in greeting, "Hi Korekiyo."

Shuichi's gaze falls to the book Korekiyo is holding. It's old, and its cover is faded, but Shuichi can tell that it is hand-bound. Shuichi gestures to the book, "Oh, were you reading that"

Korekiyo pulls the book out from under his arm and hands it to Shuichi, "I was, yes - I've finished now. However, I believe that you would find this one to be quite… intriguing."

Shuichi turns the book over and reads the title in his head. _Professor Idabashi's Study on Hanahaki: Volume 1,_ "It's about hanahaki, right?"

Korekiyo nods, "You are correct. I think you will find much of the information you are looking for in these pages."

Shuichi opens his mouth to reply, but Celeste interrupts him, strolling down the shelves towards them, "You are free to keep that book if you wish to. I have no need for it in my library."

Shuichi looks at the book then up to Celeste, "Really?"

She nods, and Shuichi smiles, "Thank you, Celeste, that's kind of you."

"Of course - you're free to visit anytime you wish."

With that, she leaves, and Korekiyo and Shuichi browse her personal library well into the night.

Shuichi's phone rings in the middle of class.

The professor shoots him a withering look, and Shuichi declines the call as fast as possible. Under the table, he switches his phone to silent and shoves it into his backpack. When class is finally over, Shuichi removes the phone from his backpack and checks it for texts or missed calls. He'd missed two calls, both from different doctors. The voicemail they leave speaks about potential surgery he could undergo, and one of them even advises him to consider transplants if the problem persists.

Shuichi doesn't call them back.

The kitchen is a disaster. Batter spills onto the floor, and a thin layer of flour carpets almost every inch of the tiny space. Angie, who's decorating the cookies with glee, seems to be having the time of her life. Shuichi, meanwhile, tries his best to not think about the massive mess that they are going to have to clean up as he whisks the remainder of the batter together. A timer goes off, and Angie runs to the oven, "The cookies are ready!"

The cookies in question are pulled out of the oven. Angie vibrates with excitement as she sets them down on the counter to cool. The half-dozen of oatmeal raisin cookies on the sheet smell pleasant, fresh and radiating warmth. Shuichi peers down at the cookies.

"They look good, Angie."

Angie beams at him, her smile radiant, "Thank you, Shuichi! Are you ready to make the second batch?"

Shuichi glances down at the bowl of batter to find that it's nearly full. His face falls - he's going to be baking for a long time. Angie prances towards him and presses her cheek to his shoulder, "Shuichi, why do you look so down? This will be fun, I promise! Simply allow the will of the cookie gods to be yours!"

Angie takes the bowl of batter from the table and pulls Shuichi towards a vacant cookie tray, "Go, make the cookies! Heed their commands, Shuichi!"

With a sigh, Shuichi relents. The pair end up making cookies for the better half of the Sunday morning. Mercifully, Rantaro and Ryoma both offer to help them clean up in exchange for some of their baked goods.

Shuichi finds he's in a much better mood when they're finished. As if anticipating his thoughts, Angie places her hands on his shoulders, "So Shuichi, did you have fun?

He nods, "I did, thank you for inviting me to help, Angie."

"Good! Take all the cookies you wish - I will spread the word of our treats to the dorm!"

With that, Angie is gone as fast as she had arrived. As he watches her skip down the corridor, he feels fluttering in his chest. _Oh no,_ he thinks, his face pale. He darts to the privacy of the bathroom, coughing violently. He gags, and his eyes water.

Four daffodil petals, speckled with blood, fall into his hands.

Shuichi sits in the back of the library, squinting at his computer screen. He reads the definition of hanahaki disease in his head.

" _Hanahaki Disease is a potentially fatal illness caused by the activation of hanahaki seeds ingested into the lungs. While most of the population has hanahaki seeds dormant in their bodies, certain bodies do not realize that the seeds are a threat. In addition, the hanahaki plant only grows in the lungs, making it a parasitic plant. Hanahaki has been known to affect mammals, birds, and even reptiles. The disease affects approximately 10% of adolescents who develop unrequited, typically romantic, interest during puberty. While no clear cause for this disease is known, it is hypothesized that the influx of hormones during puberty makes adolescents prime hosts for the Hanahaki parasite._

 _Symptoms include a sore throat, coughing, nausea, vomiting, and expulsion of flowers from the mouth or nose. In most cases, symptoms resolve over time. Hosts over the age of 18 will rarely, if ever, suffer adverse effects from hanahaki. Surgical removal of the plant system is used in extreme cases, but results in the numbing of emotion for some time. Left untreated, hanahaki disease can be fatal. Frequent vomiting and blood loss can lead to esophageal cancer, anemia, ulcers, weight loss, and plant system itself can puncture lungs, restrict airways, and cause lung cancer. Poisonous strains of plants may also cause chemical poisoning."_

Shuichi frowns. He's not an adolescent anymore, so why is he still coughing up flower petals at age eighteen, two years after his "successful" surgery?

The next thing he does is pour over his copy of the old medical book on hanahaki that he took from Celeste's library. Unlike newer medical handbooks, this one is fraught with illegible handwriting and strange words. But overall, the language is surprisingly scientific and logical. The variations of hanahaki mentioned, too, are more diverse, including adults as well as adolescents. The old book even speaks about odd variations of hanahaki that Shuichi can only find after thoroughly searching for it online.

The variation of the disease that stands out the most to him is classified as chronic, overactive, and multi-target hanahaki. Its real name is nearly impossible to for Shuichi to pronounce, but it describes his symptoms perfectly. According to the book, it's exceedingly rare, too. A quick search confirms no cases have been diagnosed recently. Shuichi sighs, thumbing his fingers over the cover of the book.

"Interesting, no?"

He looks up to see Korekiyo standing at the other side of the table. The library copy of the newer hanahaki book is tucked under his arm. Korekiyo sits down, opening the book to a seemingly random page. Shuichi nods, "Yes, it is."

They sit in the quiet of the library for a few minutes, reading. Shuichi watches Korekiyo out of the corner of his eye. He seems focused on his book, but looks up when Shuichi clears his throat, "I am curious - why have you chosen to study hanahaki? Is someone you know suffering from it, or is your interest merely a curiosity of circumstance?"

Korekiyo's question comes when Shuichi is three fourths through reading his page. His grip on the book tightens. He supposes he has nothing to lose by telling him the truth.

"I have it."

Korekiyo nods, and Shuichi almost doesn't hear his response.

"As do I."

Shuichi is at a loss for words. He didn't expect a comment, much less an admittance of having hanahaki as well. As he processes the anthropologist's answer, Korekiyo puts down his book,"It is chronic. Painful, too; they are roses. They aggravate my other health issues as well, and that is why I wear a mask."

"Oh."

Shuichi runs his fingers across the edge of the book's cover. He doesn't know what to say or what to keep to himself. In the end, it all tumbles out of his mouth anyway, "My hanahaki is chronic. It flares up a lot, but it's almost never the same person, or a person I'm romantically interested in." He pauses, sighing, "It's confusing, sometimes - the flowers are all different."

Korekiyo stares at Shuichi blankly, and Shuichi sits stock still under his gaze, "I see… how intriguing. The form you speak of is rare, amazingly so."

Shuichi perks up, "You've heard of that variation before? I found it in this book." Shuichi says, gesturing to the book he's holding.

"Yes, I have. In fact, you would be the second case in recorded history if I am correct."

Shuichi watches Korekiyo page through the newer hanahaki book. How much time has passed is unknown to Shuichi - all he cares about is knowing how to subdue the fluttering pain than dug into his chest. Korekiyo turns the book towards Shuichi and points to a list of symptoms that match his completely. Shuichi is surprised to find it's mentioned in Korekiyo's book as well, but he finds close to nothing in modern sources. Shuichi nods, and Korekiyo leans back.

"Now, shall we discuss possible treatments?"

Angie and Tsumugi are eating together when Shuichi arrives, setting his dinner down on the table. Ryoma is just small enough to sit in the spot on the booth next to Tsumugi, but if his expression is anything to go by, he isn't happy about it. The cafeteria is nearly full - a flash storm forced students to take cover wherever possible, and the cafeteria just so happened to be near the central hub of the campus. Shuichi tries to settle into his seat. It's hard for him to focus on the conversations his friends are having amidst the chaos.

Eventually, the noise becomes too much, and he stands, "I'm going to use the bathroom, I'll be right back."

He excuses himself and all but sprints to the bathroom. Shuichi reaches open and pulls the cool, metal handle and walks inside. There, he's met with a familiar figure.

"Korekiyo?"

The anthropologist looks up from his spot on the bench. He's reading a book Shuichi hasn't seen before, "Shuichi. Hello."

Shuichi nods, standing in the center of the room, unmoving. Korekiyo raises an eyebrow questioningly, "Is there something you need?"

Shuichi shakes his head, shifting the weight on his feet, "No. I'm just here to escape all the noise."

Korekiyo's mouth twitches, and Shuichi swears he's smiling.

"I see. And a bathroom was your opportune hiding place?"

Shuichi resists the urge to melt into the floor, "There wasn't anywhere else to go. I'm... sorry if I'm bothering you."

Korekiyo chuckles, and Shuichi's cheeks redden, "H-hey! You're here too!" He splutters.

Shuichi suddenly sees Korekiyo's grin clearer through the mask he wears, and it dawns on him that the anthropologist was _joking_ with him. Shuichi waits for the boy's grin to subside before he steps closer, pointing to the book in Korekiyo's hand.

"What are you reading?"

Korekiyo tilts the book towards him, "It is a book on artifacts from the time of the Incas. They're truly exquisite."

"Do you have any favorites?"

Korekiyo's eyes light up, "In fact, I do … would you like to see them?" He pats the bench cushion next to him, "Come, sit down."

Shuichi does.

It's a late Tuesday night, and Shuichi half-sits, half-lays against his pillows. His computer has grown warm against his legs. Ryoma lays on the bed opposite to Shuichi, his hands clasped over his chest and headphones on. Their third roommate is long gone - they are living abroad this semester, leaving Ryoma and Shuichi alone. Shuichi doesn't mind their departure. The student hadn't spoken much to Shuichi or Ryoma during the time they'd lived together, anyways.

At eleven, Shuichi stops typing and looks over at Ryoma. His eyes are narrowed, and his forehead is creased.

"Ryoma?"

Ryoma's expression relaxes, and he pulls his headphones down, "Yes?"

"What are you listening too?"

"Cat videos."

"Oh… did you have cats?"

"I did, at home."

Shuichi waits expectantly for Ryoma to answer him, however, the boy is quiet. Eventually, Shuichi gathers the courage to ask him another question, "Do you miss them?"

Ryoma's answer is nearly instant.

"Always."

The cocktail of sadness that creeps into Ryoma's voice is hard to ignore. Shuichi feels a pang of guilt in his chest. While he had been out with Angie and the others, Ryoma had stayed here, alone.

"Ryoma? Would you like to go to the cat café in the city this weekend? It's… a bit far, but I can drive."

Shuichi sees the corners of the boy's mouth rise, and Ryoma nods his head slowly, "I'd like that." Ryoma says, carefully placing his headphones and phone onto the desk by his bed, "I'll see you tomorrow, Shuichi."

Shuichi can barely contain his grin, "Good night, Ryoma."

Ryoma grunts and rolls over in response. A few moments later, Shuichi follows the other boy's example and puts his computer back on his desk. His eyes trace the edges of the ceiling tiles as time passes, sleep evading him until suddenly, Shuichi feels a sharp, stabbing pain in his chest. He jolts up into a sitting position, wide-eyed and clutching his chest.

He coughs, loudly. By some miracle, it doesn't wake Ryoma.

Shuichi coughs again, and this time, a bluebell petal flutters down onto his covers.

The office is as drab and unwelcoming as his first visit a year ago for his physical. A fat, old clock hangs precariously above the front desk, and the receptionist looks like the antithesis of welcoming. Shuichi walks up to the desk to check in, somehow manages to survive the interaction, and enters the waiting room. There, he sits on one of the black plastic chairs. Dull and lifeless, the room is empty aside from the stiff chairs and a forlorn coffee table placed in the center of the floor.

A nurse appears with a clipboard in hand, "Shuichi?"

He stands and walks through a door behind the nurse who called his name. The nurse checks his height and weight before sending him into a check-up room.

Minutes pass. Eventually, a woman walks into the room. She introduces herself to him, but Shuichi doesn't catch her name. It isn't like it matters, anyways - she's not his usual doctor.

They speak for ten minutes. When they finish talking, the doctor looks up at him. She doesn't smile.

"In your case, I do believe another surgery would be the best option."

Nearly everything in this hospital is the same as the last one he had been to. It's sterile and unwelcoming, filled with sick and injured people. Shuichi feels too nervous to stay in the waiting room, and ends up stepping out so that he can be alone. Outside, his stomach growls. He'd been fasting since last night, and they're bringing him in early to monitor his vitals before the surgery.

His name is called.

Shuichi hears it from just outside the doors and rushes inside, murmuring an apology to the nurse. He smiles and leads Shuichi into a room. Machines flank the bed in the center, and the nurse directs Shuichi to sit.

His vitals are normal. The nurse leaves, and a few minutes later, three hospital workers come in. They hook him up to more machines and monitors than he can count on both his hands. Then comes the needle for the IV, bringing with it a momentary, stinging pain.

The last thing Shuichi remembers is one of the nurses hooking up a bag of fluid to the IV attached to his arm, and his world spinning before he fades into unconsciousness.

Shuichi wakes up, disoriented and in pain.

Nurses are there to great him. In the haze, he vaguely remembers them telling him his surgery was a success and that he'll be sore for a bit.

Some other medical staff come in and list the medication he needs to take. Shuichi only grasps the names - everything else is white noise to him.

It doesn't matter how many drugs, when, or why he needs to take them.

All that matters is that he is finally free.

Shuichi is on summer break.

He doesn't understand how he keeps ending up in the center of crowds of students he doesn't know. The invitation to this particular venue came from Kaede, and he regrets accepting it just minutes after stepping through the door. He can barely focus on anything but the music pouring out of the two massive speakers at the front of the room.

A hand reaches out to grab his arm.

Whoever has a hold on him pulls him towards the edge of the of the crowd, and Shuichi is too numbed by the music to react. Once they're farther away from the throng of people, his abductor whips around.

She's a strawberry blonde girl with blue eyes, and she's frowning at him.

"So limpdick, _you're_ Kaede's boy toy?"

The girl looks Shuichi up and down. He feels naked as her eyes rake over his torso, as if she's undressed him without physically removing his clothes. Her surveying complete, the girls folds her arms. A wicked smirk appears on her face, "Hah! Looks like I don't have much competition after all."

Shuichi fumbles for a response. As he tries to collect his thoughts, Kaede is spat out from the writhing mass of students. She launches herself into Shuichi's arms, and instantly, the other girl is forgotten. He hugs her back, relaxing into her familiar embrace. She pulls back and looks at him with a big, dopey smile, "Shuichi! I missed you."

Shuichi smiles, even though his chest feels almost empty when he looks at her. The emotions that had been taken from him due to surgery have come back, but he still only slightly feels affection for his long-time friend.

"Hey Kaede, I missed you too."

As Kaede beams at him with adoration, the strawberry blonde waves her hands in front of Kaede's face. She looks back and forth between him and Kaede.

"Uh, hello! Don't you want to know the name of this gorgeous girl genius?"

Shuichi opens his mouth to respond.

"I-"

He isn't fast enough. Miu's voice thunders over his.

"Well no need to drool, I'll tell you! I'm Miu Iruma, and don't forget it, virgin."

Shuichi nods slowly, a mixture of concern and confusion blossoming on his face. From behind him, Kaede pales. She takes Miu by the wrist and hauls her away, miming the words "I'm sorry" to Shuichi. He is so put off kilter by the situation that he doesn't register a tall, athletic man sneaking up behind him.

"Shuichi!"

A familiar voice rings in his ears, and strong arms wrap around his waist. Shuichi is lifted into the air and spun around twice before being set gently onto the ground. When he gains his bearings, he looks up to see Kaito behind him with an ear to ear grin that threatens to split his face in two.

Shuichi's wide eyed look of surprise melts off of his face, and he smiles at the boy. Kaito doesn't waste time pulling him back in for a bone-crushing hug,"Man! It's been so long since I've talked to you, Shuichi - how's it going?"

Shuichi hugs Kaito back, though he doesn't grip him quite as strong, "It's going good. Sorry I haven't called much, I've been busy with work."

Kaito and Shuichi separate, but Kaito leaves his hand on Shuichi's shoulder.

"Don't worry about it - I get it. Come on, you gotta meet the others."

 _Others?_ Shuichi wonders. He doesn't have much time to think - Kaito, much like Miu had minutes before, takes Shuichi by the arm and drags him back onto the floor. Bodies press in around them as Kaito plows through the throngs of party-goers. Shuichi speeds up so that he isn't left behind, staying as close to Kaito as he can. The boy leads him to a destination far from their meeting point away from the crowd. The noise increases until they break out of the mass of people and head right.

The hallway they enter is long and narrow. The ceilings are covered in glowing neon lights, and the walls are sheathed in reflective metal. Shuichi's reflection is distorted, a mess of colors in a form vaguely representing himself. Shuichi's gaze falls to the floor. The tiles underneath them are glittery silver, soft yet brilliant.

When Kaito turns, Shuichi's head snaps up. They've entered a small room with dim lights and luxurious sofas. Immediately, Shuichi notices the people sitting and standing around the room. Their gazes fall upon him, and Shuichi tenses. Kaede, who had been leaning against the wall, rushes forward to Shuichi's side.

She puts her arm around his waist as if she were a superhero swooping in to save him from disaster, "Hey everyone! This is my friend Shuichi. Do you guys want to go around and introduce yourselves to him?"

The first to speak is an energetic girl with pigtails and bright eyes.

"My name is Tenko Chabashira!"

The second is a petite red-head who's nearly dozing off.

"Hi… I'm Himiko."

The third is a hulking muscle of a boy with long, wild hair and glasses.

"Hello! I am Gonta Gokuhara."

The fourth is a short boy with a devious smirk playing on his lips.

"Aww, hi Shuichi! Welcome to the gang. I'm Kokichi."

The fifth is boy with messy blonde hair and blue eyes.

"I am Kiibo. It is nice to meet you, Shuichi."

The last is a woman with an impassive face and tired eyes.

"You may call me Kirumi. My surname is Tojo - It is a pleasure to meet you."

They drill him with a few more basic questions before returning to their conversations. Kaito slips into the group and Shuichi feels, for not the first time this night, completely and utterly alone. As Shuichi watches the group speak, he begins to creep towards the edges of the room, out of sight. Not even Kaede remembers to speak with him aside from the occasional remark.

Shuichi's head hurts. He feels like his skull is being squished by a hot clamp, and his stomach gurgles. Nausea grips Shuichi as he feels bile rise in his throat. Knowing what is imminent, he excuses himself to go to the bathroom.

Shuichi races down the hall, bolts into an unoccupied stall, and vomits into the toilet. It comes out in horrible, acidic waves, and he's powerless to stop it. As is comes, his throat burns and he coughs, a mixture of blood and stomach acid dribbling down his chin. Shuichi is left shaking, look down into the toilet with horror in his eyes.

A single, fresh cherry blossom swirls amidst the bright red blood and stomach acid, taunting him.


End file.
